Close Combat
by thegirlfrommod4A
Summary: 3x5 and after from Jack Thompson's point of view. My first time publishing smut, it is waaaay harder than it looks...anyways, enjoy!


I OWN NOTHING! Except for pride in finally posting this monstrosity. Thank you a million times over to Ali for being a goddess among betas. Review if you are so inclined, and enjoy either way!

The meeting room of the SSR was packed with agents, all hovering over the man currently struggling to decrypt a coded message.

"May I see it?" asked the cool voice of Agent Peggy Carter.

Thompson looked over the decoder's head, surprised at her abrupt request. Thompson doubted her ability to decode the message, and was quick to voice his opinion. However, Carter quickly refuted his comments and began her work. He remained silent and watched with some level of skepticism as she translated the note, reading it with apparent ease. Thompson had read her extensive file, and had seen that she was a skillful encryptor and translator. However, he had believed her talents to be exaggerated. The realization that they were not surprised him to such a large extent that he didn't notice Dooley and Carter squabbling over the Russian operation.

He couldn't believe that this broad had the gall to ask to be included on a mission. She was just a woman, moreover she hadn't had any field experience since her time as Captain America's liaison. Any mistake on her part could cost the lives of everyone on the operation. He voiced his concerns to Dooley to try and exclude her from the trip.

Carter, obstinate as usual, trailed Dooley into his office. She was determined to voice her opinion, and have her boss see reason. She seemed entirely indifferent to Thompson, barring her nanny comment. When he said his nanny comment, he watched her eyes role but kept speaking anyways until she burst in.

"I spent three years in the mud of the European Theater," Carter declared, "the eastern front, the western front and everywhere in between."

"Surrounded by some of our best men!" he retorted.

Carter looked him dead in the eye, rattling off her fish story. While Thompson would admit to not having the comprehensive knowledge of the USSR that Peggy had claimed to, he knew enough to feel comfortable without her.

As Carter finished her story with a mix of pride and defiance in her voice, Thompson quickly mitigated her point. He watched in satisfaction as a look of indignation crossed her face. He thought he had won. Dooley appeared to share Thompson's belief, as he described the risks of having her join the mission. As it finally looked as if she would be grounded, what Carter said next stopped Dooley, cold.

"Not as well as the 107th."

Everyone in the SSR knew she had worked with Captain America, and the 107th; but surely she wouldn't be able to call up the best squad in the US armed forces on 2 days notice. Dooley was aware of this, and made it a requirement if she wanted to come along.

On account of this, she left the office and walked to the phones. Thompson chuckled a little at the idea of her begging to her old army friends, but stopped when he saw the expression on Dooley's face. Damn. The man was still talking, but Agent Thompson didn't snap back to attention until Dooley mentioned his "little crush on Carter." To distract himself, he began rattling off plans, but was cut off when Carter reentered the office, spitting his plan back at him with the addition of the 107th. Well damn. "Gear up."

Thompson was both perturbed and surprised to see Peggy waiting outside of the changing room. Her logic for wanting to use the room made sense, but if anything, he assumed she would have just barged right in. She had waited for him, making sure to tell him her plan before going through with it. Hiding his surprise, he warned the other men as she strode in with an airy "Do none of you have sisters?"

He quickly put an end to the exclamations of his men, but surprised himself when he was able to easily banter with Carter through the wall of lockers.

Carter's British accent calling him "Sir," was having an interesting effect on him, and he was glad when Sousa came in with the paperwork and a distraction. However, when Sousa started flirting with Peggy, Thompson had gotten irrationally angry. He pictured her smiling at the other agent's words and couldn't stand it. Therefore, he tricked Sousa into walking in on her changing. Was just a tad mean? Yes. But no one had ever accused Thompson of being a nice man, especially not lately. He snickered a little as he heard them stutter at each other, though the jealousy still simmered.

In the plane, he found himself jittery and anxious with the thought of a real jump, while Peggy and the others seemed calm and collected. While he had been on several missions back in the states, he hadn't been this nervous. However, being flown into the field reminded him too much of being deployed all those years ago.

Carter had noticed that something was amiss, and guessed that he was nervous about the jump. Thompson rebuttled with a wisecrack remark. His comment about her woman's intuition wasn't by far his best, but he needed something to grasp onto. For now it would have to do; with the usual facetious banter slipping back into their conversation. It wasn't all for show, of course. He had to get in a dig at Peggy herself.

After landing and dusting themselves off a bit, Thompson felt more himself as he ordered everyone into position. However, before they could get far, "Don't move"

was stated with alarming calmness. To Thompson's surprise, Carter had gotten her weapon to the ready just as fast as the rest on them, and now seemed on the alert.

The call of "emu" had certainly caught him off guard. Yet, Carter's actions were much more surprising. Her reaction wasn't to point her gun, but to lower it. Moreover, she pushed through the ranks of operatives and lowered their guns as well. Before Thompson could even release a sound of objection, a different voice rang through the forest. No, not a voice at all. It was a whine.

"Carter! Dum Dum forgot the password again."

"The password is eagle, you apes," she chided, smiling fondly.

Thompson was amazed at the grin that split the mustachioed man's face when he caught sight of her.

"Oh." Dugan stated almost bashfully, "Hi Peggy!"

The banter was strange at this time and place, but what shocked him the most was the deference Dugan gave to Peggy when Steve Rogers was mentioned. Feeling awkward, Thompson introduced himself again and began rattling off his plan until Dugan stopped him and pointed out the trucks. To Thompson's irritation, he was watching Peggy before them.

Indeed, the "Peggy let's go!" seemed more of a formality than anything, she had been practically vibrating since being reunited with the 107th. Thompson realized, with an unpleasant lurch in his stomach, that the only reason she hadn't followed immediately was to give him his own illusion of control. Therefore, he was compliant with her choice in getting into the caravan with Dugan. It gave him time to think and regroup with his team.

She, he bitterly considered, was clearly with them.

Getting back to the campfire to see Peggy among the 107th was one of the strangest moments of Thompson's life. In the office, she was larger and smaller than life. Cool and impersonal, she was utterly dignified no matter how menial the tasks assigned to her. Here, she still commanded the same dignity and respect, but she was in her element. Her eyes lit up with a fire that he had never seen in the office while she told stories and shared drinks with her old friends. Thompson realized, watching her joke and laugh with the 107th about, of all things, eating too many beans, that she was a person, nothing more or less.

"The coast is clear," he declared, trying to get his bearings back after this revelation that shouldn't have been as strange as it was. His plan was foiled however, when the commando he had been paired with spoke up, leading to a discussion on Yeti's and abominable snowmen. Half serious, he asked the difference, and he felt oddly at peace as the commando replied "one's real one isn't," to the delight of the others. Clearly, this had been brought up plenty of times before. Peace changed quickly to an even odder feeling, was that happiness?, as Peggy gave him a smile and asked about mermaids, the man he had been keeping a lookout with picking up her words.

Any feeling of comfort vanished, and his stomach turned to lead when Peggy mentioned the cross. The commandos leaned in, though they were suddenly somber. Thompson braced himself, resettled his body, and rattled off the half-truth he knew like the back of his hand. Finishing it with a chuckle and a joke, something in the back of his head screamed in protest at the look of respect and pride in Peggy's eyes. He took the drink and wished it was enough to make him forget.

The next morning, he peered through the binoculars at the Russian building, focusing through his lack of sleep. Perhaps it was this exhaustion that lead to the tsk of annoyance in his head as he heard Dugan and Carter bickering aimlessly again, fondness in their voices. He shook it off and went on with his plan, pointedly ignoring the rest of the group. He had sensed that they were restless, so he was unsurprised when someone spoke up. The voice, however, said something unexpected.

"Carter?"

"His lead." her voice replied, and Thompson suddenly found himself sick of the whole charade. He hadn't been in the lead since they'd stepped on the plane, so he asked for her opinion and followed it when she rattled off her suggestion for two teams of four."Aces." he said shortly, and they split up.

His team had been skulking through the seemingly abandoned hallways when they heard the shots and the screaming, arriving in the room with the others to see the body of the yeti-viewer on the floor, and Dugan tugging off his tags. Dugan and Peggy spoke quietly for a moment, and when she stood and spoke, it was in a cold voice of authority that he had rarely heard from anyone; never mind a woman. He followed her out of the room, and she slipped into position in the back pair as they strode down the halls, clearing them as they went. His orders, strangely enough for this trip, went unquestioned.

When they reached the cell, however, she spoke up again with a dry, "we're the good guys." They listen to the men talk, and he is surprised at both how much he understands and how much more she seems to. She shoots the lock with precision and he lets the trapped men out, taking the last position in line as she communicates tersely with both Dugan and the Russians, looking for their escape.

All of a sudden the boiler room is a war zone, complete with the two necessities: bullets and casualties. Another man falls, and Thompson freezes. He no longer sees the battle, or hears the conversation going on around him. He doesn't know what the scientist says, but there's a gun to a man's head and he's trapped inside of his own. Peggy is bellowing orders but he can't do anything, ashamed and terrified. "Dugan, I'm about to be very cross with you," Peggy states , surprisingly calm and a long way away. Just then there's a bang, and their way out appears in the form of a freshly blown hole in the wall. However, Thompson is still frozen, battles and bullets blurring together behind his eyes.

He wants to laugh when Dum Dum "Woohoo!'s". Dugan is far away though, maybe that's why he's so happy. But Dugan's talking to Peggy, who gave the man a one sentence lecture. Warning bells went off in his mind, since she wouldn't be doing that if they weren't in danger. Then they're bantering again and no one who is here could be that happy. He realized that they must be as far away as they seem. At that moment, everyone runs. He hears Carter screaming his name.

She's loud, so loud, so loud and less controlled than he's ever seen her. That not really saying much, but if she's that loud, then she's close after all. Suddenly she's right beside him, having made it through hail of bullets, staring him dead in the eye and telling him to get his ass in gear. The cuss snaps him back to just focused enough to say "I'm up," and hightail it out.

Thompson is angry when Dugan comes first, though he's not sure how to say it. The man must see the look in his eye though, because he looks at him curtly and says, "She can take care of herself. And she's always right."

Thompson only understands the first bit. He understands that should could take care of herself. She took care of all of them. He was about to start puzzling over the second phrase when he heard a shout. Peggy sprinted towards them, the commandos shooting at the men behind her. Dugan pulls her in, and she hits the floor flat on her back as the vehicles peel away. She coughs a little, staring up at faces and the canvas roof, smiling like a school girl.

The man they had rescued has remarked, "not bad for a girl." Thompson wants to jump to her rescue, like Sousa had at the SSR meeting not long ago. But she doesn't seem to need it, not really. She's just saved his life, and now she's laughing. "I hate you all," she replies. Dum Dum pulls her upright, her eyes rolling but happy, and she drifts off leaning against the back of the cab. Dugan looks at Thompson, and he knows what he's going to stay.

"I'm going to ask her to stay," Dugan starts. Thompson tries to interrupt, say that he knows, say that she belongs here, say that no matter how much things have changed on this trip, they're probably going to fall back to their old patterns soon after they return to the US. He wants to say he will tell the SSR she did well, and that he hopes the working relationship will keep, because a tactical team as good as the 107th is impossible to come by, and so is a woman like Peggy. Before he can, however, Dugan keeps going.

"If I know Peggy, she's going to say no. She's going to stay with you, and keep an office job where you probably treat her like a secretary." The last sentence was spoken pointedly. Thompson can't find anything to say to that, but again, he doesn't have to.

"So here's my request. Peggy doesn't need taking care of. She doesn't need anyone or anything else either, if you listen to her. But she is a soldier, a damn good one at that, and every soldier needs backup sometimes. So be her goddamn back up and stop making her fetch sandwiches. Oh, and she likes a good bourbon as much as the rest of us." Dugan finishes. The rest of the 107th, who Thompson realizes have been listening in, all nod. The truck grinds to a halt in front of the plane, jolting Peggy awake as it does. There's a lot of hand shaking and then he and Ramirez get on the plane while Peggy has her conversation with Dugan. He doesn't know the exact words, and he doesn't need to, he's just happier than he should be when he realizes Dugan does in fact know Peggy very, very well.

As the doctor sleeps, they talk. He thanks her, and he spills his secret. He let it come rumbling out of him like an avalanche of bitterness and buried guilt and built up shame, and no small amount of of self loathing. She is watches him with those big brown eyes, not judging, not commenting, just looking and listening, and somehow this makes him feel better; though he also feels more naked than he did changing in the locker room before the mission. She goes back to her side of the plane after that, and both of them drift of with the roar of the engines as their battle-end lullaby.

In the office, he rattles off the proper words in relation to Lee's death, then passes as much credit as he can off to Peggy for the rest of the mission. He is surprised, though perhaps he shouldn't be, when she shifts in evenly between them. Her pronouncement about Stark's innocence is even more unexpected, but the tone in which she says it is one that had become familiar over the past two days. Now, Dooley is the one caught off guard, though he covers it well with a brief "noted."

They chat a little more about Stark and the weaponry, and as he leaves the office he hears Dooley say "Good work Carter," and the surprised happiness in Peggy's voice as she expresses her gratitude. It pops up again, this time on her face, when he invites her drinking with them, and declares that he owes her a bourbon. Feeling that might-be-happiness again, he pushes Sousa's strange behavior to the back of his mind, and by the time they hit the lobby he has gathered the nerve to offer her an arm. After a moment of glancing between his face and the offered limb, she takes it with a "Thank you, Agent Thompson," and stays by his side until they hit a round table in the bar.

Thompson leans back in his chair and watches his team talk. There had been a couple of brief moments of awkward silence when a man had made a crude joke or referenced a bodily function, then remembered a woman was with them, but Peggy had always come back with a sharp retort or a sly innuendo in reply. Now, the conversation was flowing, the men asking her about the 107th and her giving answers and asking about their units in return. He should probably be paying more attention as she speaks about the men he trusted his life to a few hours ago, but instead he just watches her. He sips his glass of bourbon as she swills hers. Once they're both on their third, he notes that she seems just as unaffected as he does, though he supposes watching her down it with her old unit should have clued him in. It also should have clued him in that she'd insist on paying for her own drinks after the first, but he'd fought her anyways, giving in only when she gave him the mildest possible variation of her battle glare. She looks over and catches his eye as she finishes her story, and suddenly he notices just how beautiful she is.

He downs the bourbon, watches her do the same, and offers her his arm again. Again, she pauses for a second before taking it, shooting a wary eye towards the dance floor. The music is slow, with lots of saxophone, and as they sway she leans into him. Peggy shudders a little and then looks up sadly.

"Steve promised me a dance." she confides, "He never got around to it. And its very silly to think of a handsome man when you're dancing in the arms of another"

Thompson felt something in his chest swell at her words. He watched her with wonder as she continued.

"I'm thinking of him before though, when he wasn't quite handsome."

Thompson chuckles. "Well I've heard, but they don't broadcast that in the newspapers."

"I have a picture, you could see it if you like," she says, seeming to regret it as soon as she does.

"OK."

Sneaking in to the Griffith proves difficult, but they both have some experience with covert operations, and they end up in her room, both looking at the picture in her hand.

"The helmet is a little big." He finds it in him to say, distracted by her soft being pressed into his side. She smiles. "Its was."

Peggy tucks the image back into its spot in the corner and then runs her finger along the side of the vanity until something clicks. She pulls out another bottle of bourbon, and pours it into the two glasses. "To...to the truth." she says, raising hers. "good and bad." he taps his glass against hers and they drink quickly, avoiding eye contact when they finish, but then turning to each other at the same time. Their lips meet, a little slow, a little hesitant, and they both taste like bourbon. She moans a little as her lips part, and that settled it for him.

He shoves Peggy in to the wall, his lips on hers, and she kisses back just as forcefully. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she jumps and wraps her legs around his waist. He catches her, and holds her between himself and the wall. Her fingers shove his jacket down his back, and the suspenders down his arms while he moves on hand to her front and starts slipping out buttons. Peggy's head lolls back as he strokes down her front. Thompson breaks the kiss, and places his lips to her neck. Suddenly, he opens his mouth to her neck and lightly bites. Her hands squeeze his shoulders in response, slipping around and down to his belt , undoing it as her heels clatter to the floor behind him.

At this point, they are logistically stuck as far as shedding clothing goes, so he whirls around and drops Carter on the bed. Before he can join her, Peggy has sat up, fingers working at his slacks, and he follows her lead. He starts undoing shirt buttons. Carter's dress is around her waist, leaving her top half in her black slip and a matching bra. The seconds his own shirt is gone, he reaches forwards and rips, then smooths his hands down her sides to latch his arms into the parted dress, and further into her undergarments. He tugs, and Peggy slips out of her bra, then leans back to give him easier access. She rises towards Thompson as soon as she is fully naked. Simultaneously, she pulls his undershirt over his head while he toes off his shoes. Then she pushes down. Thompson steps out of his clothes, naked and wanting. Peggy sits back down and reaches out her arms. He steps between her legs and they fall backwards, his dick against her thigh.

She rolls them over, and if he thought she was beautiful in the plane or the bar, he must have been nuts because there is nothing he has ever seen that comes close to her sinking on to him. She sighs, and immediately he lost any semblance of control as he flips them over and pounds into her. Her hand wanders between them, and she takes care of herself, like she is so good at. While he slams his hims against hers and uses his mouth on her breasts and neck, trying to help her because god help him, hes not going to last much longer inside with her other hand flying across his back. Soon, the deep pleasured moans begin erupting from her mouth. He's not going to make this all about him, he's her back up. She comes first. Her moans get higher and breathier, and she moves herself faster beneath him. She shudders and grits her teeth, trying to keep herself from crying out in ecstasy. Soon, she completely falls apart beneath him shrieking "Jack!" God, his name has never sounded so good. He pounds harder as she comes back to earth, hands gripping the covers next to her bed, and lets go inside her.

They stay like that for a moment, and then he rolls out of her to the side. When he can speak, his first question is "What about a kid?"

She shakes her head. "They gave me something when I was in the army...just in case. I still take it, it has other uses as well."

Part of him feels like he should leave now, and it is this part of him that is relieved when Peggy commands him to move his legs. The larger part of him, however, is disappointed, but feels better when she is just reaching for the covers. She doesn't roll into his arms, but they're very close, and he lets himself fall into sleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, he sees Peggy sitting at the dressing table, fastening in her earrings.

"Oh good you're up." she says, glancing in the mirror as he untangles himself from the sheets. "I've figured out how to get you out of here unseen, but its a two minute window so you'll have to be quick."

He nods as he puts on his clothes, debating whether he should say what he wants to. But Peggy might just be the bravest person he knows, and maybe that rubbed off on him a little bit, because he walks up behind her, still naked from the waist up with no shoes or socks and his fly undone. Thompson slides his hands across her shoulders, holds her fabric-covered breasts in his hands. He draws small circles over the nipples, watches as her eyes grow wide, watching them in the mirror. He leans down, kissing her neck where he knows there is a makeup-covered mark. "Oh." she whispers.

Peggy turns her head and he captures her lips instead, the rough edge from last night muted but still very much present.

"I could wake up to that," she says a bit breathlessly when they break apart. She then seems to think better of it, and turns her attention away from him to fix her bright red pout.

He laughs a little as he buttons up his shirt.

"Hey Carter?" he asks pulling out the office voice and smirking at the way her eyebrow lifts when she turns to face him. "Know any good diners around here? There's a girl I'd like to take for breakfast." he says, pulling on his shoes.

She smiles then, and gives him the plan to get out and then directions to the diner where her friend Angie works.

Peggy arrives a few moments after her does, chatting for a moment with the young woman behind the counter.

They make small talk over coffee and eggs, talking about nothing in particular.

Outside the door, he offers her his arm for the short walk to the office.

She takes it, no hesitation. He pecks her briefly on the lips and they walk on.


End file.
